To Run and Hide

Part 9: Confessions

Darius returned two hours later, Ilaria at his elbow. She sat down and I moved from my position by the window. I silently hoped that the dim light would conceal the tears still running rife down my cheeks. Darius showed Ilaria the letter, and she nodded, her face grave. I knew what she was looking at - the exact time and date of when Ophera would be assassinated. The night before her wedding, traditionally sacred within the former elven nations, would be spent in pure torture, with poison slipped into her wine inducing a night full of violent and exhausting vomiting until she eventually died, burnt out from the torture of puking her guts up all night.

Ilaria left, leaving me alone in the study with Darius again. Tension burned thick in the air.

"You can sit, Carmyn." He indicated the chair with a strong, slender hand. My cheeks burned as I sat down and tucked my chin into my chest, my eyes drifting downward to the desk. The papers had been stashed somewhere. Where, I didn't particularly care at the time. The sensible part of me cursed myself. I was foolish and young, and I had gotten myself neck deep into this assasiantion plot, and into this - whatever this was, between myself and Darius. He was a betrothed man, that I knew. He was to marry, and that was that. I could never come between him and his Queen, not when I was no more than some low - bred peasant, good for nothing but service.

"I don't love Princess Ophera," Darius began, his voice wavering. I looked up then, and our eyes locked. Navy blue met cerulean in a dance of colour, as beautiful as the rolling waves or the bright blue sky. "I have never wanted this life for myself. Ever since I was younger, all I wanted was - I know this will sound stupid -" A bitter laugh. I leaned forward and gripped his hands in my own, willing curiosity into my face, hoping to comfort him. It seemed to work, for he continued to speak. "I love to play the violin. I wanted to be a world famous violinist, renowned for my art."

I smiled at the vulnerability, even as pain tugged through me. How could I be so stupid, to never consider that he might have hobbies of his own? I had not painted since my book was stolen, but that didn't mean I couldn't start up again.

"Will you play for me sometime? The violin?"

"I will. My Mother loved the violin as well," His gaze turned distant, somber. I squeezed his hands in reassurance, and he smiled slightly.

"Tell me about your Mother."

"She was beautiful - a bright, cheerful light in a castle of darkness and gloom. She looked a lot like me, I remember. She - her name was Deirdre - she chose to live in ignorance of my Father's affairs. I think that may have been her downfall. Two years after I was born, my Father divorced her to marry one of the young palace ladies he thought was beautiful. Lauretta. My Mother, however, was not angry - she was Lauretta's best friend. She helped the young bride to prepare for a life under the public eye. She was the one who delivered both Illi and Ottilie, and she was like a second Mother to them. I loved her, and I loved the way she lit up the castle. I don't remember when she was Queen. My last memory of her is from a while ago." Darius paused, as if thinking through his next words. I held his gaze with my own, in silent encouragement. He smiled bitterly, and I longed so much for the shadow of the memories to be wiped from his gaze.

"My last memory of her is at her deathbed. I was only seven years old at the time. She had been poisoned, by whom we do not know. I remember her holding my face in her arms, and reaching forward to kiss my forehead. She whispered to me her hopes for my future, for the man and king I was to become. I can still recall the way she fell limp in her arms, the cold feel of her body as I curled up next to her, sobbing. I remember being dragged away, thrashing and sobbing because I would not, could not believe that the person I loved so much was gone." The young prince was sobbing now, his tears dripping down to the paper on the desk.

I stood up abruptly. His gaze followed me, and I glanced out the window. The moon was full and high in the sky, its illumination bright and beautiful.

"How quickly can you get your violin?" I asked suddenly, my thoughts running through options. His face was solemn as he stood up, and left the room. He returned a short while later, carrying a beautifully crafted instrument. I gasped. The instrument was dark wood, engraved with the skyline of Igrada, a crescent moon hanging overhead. The carved stars seemed to wink and gleam. Wordlessly, we went to the rooftop where we had first talked, that first night as Ilaria's maid.

Darius lifted up the violin and began to play a somber, sweet melody. It started off happy, joyful and calm. It went onto a raging climax, loud and fast. The piece ended in a slow, sad sound, abrupt yet bittersweet. I stared at the prince, the handsome panels of his face illuminated in the light of the night. He played so passionately it took my breath away. He began piece after piece after piece, each more beautiful as the last. The scent of lily, rose and star-kissed mist wafted through until the sky lightened, and the sun began to rise.

Just as the sky had turned a soft shade of pink, the music stopped. Darius was breathing deeply. I stood from where I had set, studying him. He walked towards me and pulled me close to him. I leaned into the embrace, breathing in his scent of oak and steel. My body hummed at each place we connected. He trembled slightly as he ran his hands through my loose hair, pulling it out of its constraints. It flowed freely behind me, the wind whispering through it. We stood there as the day awoke, content to hold each other.

After a while, he spoke again. I focused on the gentle caress of his voice against my senses.

"Sometimes I feel as if I am deserving of no one's love, Carmyn. I feel as if I don't deserve anything, because I'm not good enough, not exciting enough, not enough of a prince. But here, with you - everything feels right. Like a story that has just begun, a story which will have a happy ending like the ones we were told as children. I just want you to know that, with whatever happens with Ophera, I will forever be grateful to have you in my life,"

Words escaped me, instead replaced with a sob. I cried without caring what he thought, what anyone would see. I lay my emotions before him, and he whispered comfortingly in my ear, reaffirming what I had known since the first time we stood on this roof. That he was grateful I existed.